Beautiful Encounters on a Walk

The weather has finally reached my favorite temperatures, mid-seventies to mid-eighties, with gentle whispers of wind. Windows are open throughout the house, and the area that I sit in is almost always caught in a pleasant cross breeze. I love early summer. Nearly every other day, I climb over the fence and walk in the field behind the house. The grasses reach my waist and brush against my wrists as I meander here and there. It could almost be a setting for one of those commercials that feature such settings, usually advertising hair products. However, low lying black berry briars, burrs, snakes, and other agents of nature make wearing skirts, shorts, sandals, or flip-flops horribly impractical. On one point I do have to agree with advertisers: a field in the summer is certainly beautiful.

I've started to take my camera with me almost any time I go outside. As a result, I have a lot of pictures, most of which are from Friday and Sunday. I generally go straight to the larger of our two ponds, take some pictures, and sit and think for a while. There is always a chorus of little frogs making big noises, a dance of water bugs and dragonflies, and the fleeing of tadpoles. When I was little, we lived in a house with a clear, shallow creek on either side of the property. I would wade in and catch tadpoles, feeling their slippery skin against my fingers before letting them back into the creek when the water ran out of my hands. Tadpoles give me a sense of calm, one that I can soak into my heart as I sit on the pond's bank, so, late Sunday afternoon, I decided to go to the pond again. Before I even left the yard, I came across someone who had visited the driveway that morning.

He was a particularly fearless three-toed box turtle. He had gone straight up to one of the cats and then my bare toes before changing directions in favor of a worm that was trying to keep from drowning in the light rain. The turtle was also munching on the dried out worms that had died a day or two before. I had always imagined the dried ones would be something like bacon bits but with more protein. It's actually surprising that I never tried eating them when I was little. When I saw him again that afternoon, he was on the other side of the yard

Looking up from visiting with my reptile acquaintance, I saw that my trip to the pond would be delayed. I had set out later than usual, and the cows had beaten me to my destination. Since they were there first, I sat on the fence for a while and took pictures of them with two of the cats nearby, one of which was my sister's cat, Shadow, previously referred to as Insta-purr.

Eventually, I hopped down on the other side and explored a part of the field that I had previously been uninterested in. The difference now is that the thistle there is in bloom. A large, yellow butterfly was perched on one of the blooms, and I was hopeful that I could get close enough to get a picture before it left. Because of the distraction tactics of Shadow and Sparkle, one of the sweetest felines I've ever come across, the butterfly was long gone when I reached the thistle. However, I did get a few good pictures of the two cats.

Taking pictures and playing with the cats, I realized that when I sat down, or even crouched, the grasses came up past my head. A field is a wonderful place to hide in the summer, so long as one keeps an eye out for cow patties.

Although the butterfly had left the thistle, two fat bees were busying themselves there when I arrived. They buzzed and hummed around the purple blooms. Bees really are such pretty insects; sometimes I am baffled by the fear held by many who are not allergic. The thistle was beautiful with or without bees or butterflies.

When I finished with the thistle, I went and sat on a part of the fence that overlooks the road we live on.  On the other side of the asphalt is a wood. There are pale trees that speak of age with their cracked trunks and reaching branches. I would hardly be surprised to learn that the door to Fairy Land was there. I wouldn't be surprised to learn that there was a door in our woods either. All forests and woods have a degree of magic to them. Why else would so many fairy tales from so many different countries take place in forests?

When the cows left the big pond, I scurried to its rocky banks. Most of it is surrounded by a steep incline that levels off at the top. On one side is the pond and on the other is the woods. 

I like to sit there and think or just listen to music. It is a safe place, a place where I can fill the sky and fields with thoughts and musings. I took some more pictures and mentally noted places that would be nice for pictures of people. I don't often get human subjects to work with, so I do my best when they are available.

Satisfied with the pictures I had taken, I left the pond. It was getting relatively late, but there was still enough light that I loathed the idea of returning to the house. Instead, I made my way to the smaller pond, following trails of trodden down grass that the cows had left behind. At one point I had to stop to pull a bur out of my sock. I reached the bank and plopped down. Unlike the larger pond, this one has hardly any slope to it's bank; the ground is almost level. I looked at the edges of the water and saw little black water snails moving about, climbing over each other and searching for food. It was then that I realized that someone was sitting next to me.

He was a little western ribbon snake, black with yellow stripes. Having grown up in the area, I knew he wasn't venomous. I slowly pulled my camera from its case and turned it on, careful not to startle him. He held perfectly still. I took several pictures of him, each time expecting him to dart to the water. When I finished taking pictures, I tried to encourage him to run away. I lightly touched the tip of his tail a few times, but he only curled the tip away a centimeter or two. Carefully, I stroked his middle, smooth scales sliding past my finger. He still made no move to leave. If he wanted to stay, I wouldn't argue. Turning my gaze from the sweet little reptile, I looked out across the pond.

I love reflections and light. The pond was quite simply lovely to see, and there was a slight breeze. An orange image of a battery blinked at me from my camera's screen. I had taken several pictures in the last few days, so it wasn't any surprise. I took a few more pictures and looked back at the snake. Slowly I reached toward him where he could see me then took pictures as he sped away across the water full of clouds, little head held high.

As I waded through the tall grass on my way home, I thought about Father. He takes such care with every little detail: each of the snake's scales, each whisker on my silly kitties, and each breath that I take. He doesn't do all of this out of obligation. He does this because He loves so entirely and so vastly. More beautiful to me than that which He creates is His love.

This morning, I looked up the western ribbon snake and something caught my attention: the eyes of the adult snake pictured. They were small in proportion to its head compared to the one I sat with on Sunday. I checked and there was the text to confirm my new suspicion. "The young are born from late June to September... At birth, young western ribbon snakes are from 230 to 250 mm (9 to 10 inches) in length." That was the right length and relative time of year, and it would explain why he has such large eyes. He's a baby. He didn't run from me immediately because he hasn't learned to be afraid of me. People are wrong when they say that ignorance is bliss. Ignorance is only frustration and uninformed mistakes. Innocence is bliss.

Masquerade's End

The room stands gracefully full.
Bright colors swish
against slender ankles.
Ideals dance with dreams,
stepping in perfect time
around the ring, casting a spell.
Take care to not be caught.

Laughter finds an echo
in the gentle cacophony
and ricochets off a single heart.

There is no comfort here.
The food does not fill.
The spell is only an illusion.

A hand reaches up,
unties the chains.
The mask falls,
shatters.
Strewn glass and gems.
Far gone feathers.
The metal frame contorted,
bent grossly out of shape.

Stand.
Perfect.
Whole.
Cast aside
the glamor.

Weekly Quote 4

"...reading makes all real woods a little enchanted." C. S. Lewis

Fairy Tale Fathers

There are a lot of fathers in fairy tales. Most die pretty quickly, or their wives die, and they don't remarry very well; sometimes they'd remarry poorly and then die. Of the commonly known stories the best father I can think of is Hansel's and Grettel's. Taking into account that it is a fairy tale, one really can't hold him accountable for marrying a monster the second time around, but despite this common occurrence, he still stands out. He doesn't die or completely submit to his new wife's will. While he did eventually give in to her nagging, he resisted it for as long as he could, which is more than we're told the other fathers ever did, and when his children came home he embraced them with joyful tears. Depending on the version, he either kicked his spouse out or she died for unspecified reasons before the children returned, which I find a little suspicious, but either way, nothing would convince him to leave his darling children ever again. I assume that includes any charges of murder, vandalism, or theft that were never brought against the two little delinquents (in some versions they returned home with riches from the witch's house that ensured their financial security after that).

Here's a fairy tale, one that may be more true than you might believe it to be.

Once, not so terribly long ago, a youth fell in love with a beautiful young woman. He wasn't a prince, and she wasn't a princess. Neither one was the child of a poor woodsman or tailor, but the youth still saw her for the clever beauty that she was, and still is. He tirelessly wooed her, and one day they were wed. They lived happily for a few years and had a child, which did not dim their joy in the least. She was a golden haired little princess that was mostly quiet and observant. Not long after their daughter reached three years of age, they had her sister, who was a little bit louder to be perfectly frank. To this day the youth lives happily with his family. He works hard to support and feed them, and they love him as he loves them.

Happy Fathers' Day. I love you Dad.

The Fairy Queen's Maid

Once there lived a girl named Daisy. She had golden hair, green eyes, and porcelain skin. Her father was a wood cutter, and he loved her very much. Anytime she went to play in the forest, he cautioned her to be careful and not to wander too far. He died when she was seven. Now, Daisy had a brown tabby cat that she loved with all her heart. The day her father died, she wept and wept, but her cat pawed at her arm and said, "Get to your feet, Child. You must find your way in the world, or there'll be no food for either of us.

"But Kitty," the young girl sniffled, "I have no skills with which to make my way."

"Hush now, pack your clothes and any food you can find." Kitty said, "I know where we can find work, but it may take a few nights to reach. When you're packed, go to sleep, for the path may only be seen in moonlight."

Daisy did as she was told and soon was fast asleep. She awoke to the calling of Kitty and hurried to her.

"It's time to leave. Are you afraid?"

"No, Kitty. I am not afraid."

With that, the two slipped into the night, following a moon milk silver path. They silently stole past the sleeping doe, the hunting wolf, and the singing insects, as they entered the woods. It was hours before either spoke, but Daisy finally did.

"Kitty, where is it we will find work?"

"At the Fairy Queen's palace, Little One," Kitty purred.

These words Daisy took to heart, for the Queen of fairies was said to be the kindest and most beautiful being. No human had ever found her palace, but Daisy trusted Kitty more than anyone else, so she picked up her pace and followed the cat as diligently as ever. For many more hours, they walked.

"Oh Kitty!" Daisy finally burst, "I am so thirsty. Please let us rest for a spell."

"Dear child," the cat responded, "we mustn't stop yet. A little bag of water is in your pack. Drink from it."

Daisy did as she was told, and not long after, they reached a little glade.

"Here we will rest." Kitty said, and rest they did, until the next day's sun set in the west.

"Wake, Child. We must be on our way."

They walked for hours and hours in silence until Daisy cried out to Kitty, "Oh Kitty! I am so hungry. Please let us rest for a spell."

But Kitty replied, "Dear child, we mustn't stop yet. There is food in your pack. Eat of that."

Daisy did as she was told, and not long after, they reached a second little glade.

"Here we will rest." Kitty said, and rest they did, until the next day's sun set in the west. Then they awoke and continued on their way. They walked  for longer than they had either night before, and Daisy began to be afraid that they would never stop. "Oh Kitty," she wept, "I am so tired. Please let us rest for a spell."

"Dear child," Kitty whispered, "we mustn't stop yet. A little farther, I beg you."

And so Daisy continued on, weeping, for her shoes were worn to tatters and her legs could barely support her, but it was not long after that they reached a third little glade where Kitty told her to rest. It was when the next day's sun was high that Kitty woke Daisy.

"Child," she purred, "we are nearly at the Fairy Queen's palace. We must now follow the path lined with rose bushes."

In moments, they reached the palace. There they were given baths, food, and a good night's sleep. The next day, they had an audience with the Queen, who was as lovely as any story and more. She had the longest golden tresses, that rivaled the sun; violet eyes, that inspired song; and a smile like every mother's. Upon hearing of Daisy's predicament, she insisted on being of help. It was thus that, as long as Daisy helped the maids wherever she could, she would be provided with food, an education, and a place to sleep. Kitty was also provided with food and was allowed to sleep with Daisy, if she kept the mouse and rat population to a minimum. They lived there happily for many years, and Daisy grew into a beautiful young woman.

She was out in the forest one day, gathering berries, when she saw a magnificent grasshopper caught in a web. Her heart ached with sympathy, and she cut him loose.

"Thank you fair maiden," he said with a bow, "What can I do to repay you?"

"Nothing is needed," the sweet Daisy replied

"Then take this crown, for I am the King of grasshoppers, and when you need me, put it on your little finger, and I will be there."

"Thank you very much." Daisy took the crown, put it in her pocket, and continued along.

The next day, she was sent to the fairy market. On her way down the path, Daisy heard a frog crying at the bank of a pond

"Whatever is the matter?" she asked.

"I was playing with my silver ball, but when I threw it into the air, it became lodged in that tree above us, and now I can't reach it."

"Oh." Daisy said. She looked up and spotted the ball. It was just out of her reach. Refusing to give up, for a weeping frog is the most heart wrenching sound, Daisy picked up a stick and poked at the ball until it fell to the ground, where the frog happily reclaimed it.

"Thank you so much!" he croaked, "As heir to the amphibian throne, I vow that, should you ever need my assistance in return, you need only drop a pebble in this pond."

"Thank you," Daisy said, and she picked up a pebble and slipped it in her pocket.

A week later, she was tending the fire in the great hall after everyone else had gone to bed, when she saw something moving in the flames. A salamander had become trapped when a piece of wood fell on top of his tail.

Taking the poker, Daisy lifted the wood just long enough for the salamander to crawl out.

"Many thanks, I don't know how long I would have been trapped, if not for you," he gasped.

"It was the least I could do." she assured him.

"My kingdom and I are in debt to you," he said, "Take this piece of charcoal, and, if you ever need my help, throw it into a fire."

She graciously accepted the gift and slid it into her pocket. It was months before she ever needed any of their help.

It came to pass that the Fairy Queen called Daisy into the throne room.

"Dearest Daisy," the Queen said, "my cousin seeks a bride, and you are kind, beautiful, and true to your word. I do not know of a better bride. If you are willing, he has set three tasks that you must complete, for his bride must be worthy."

"I would love nothing more." Daisy replied, for the Queen's cousin was rumored to be a true and wise gentleman.

"The first task is to raise an army that is small but large. He will be here in the morning."

Later in the day, Daisy related all of this to Kitty, who softly replied, "Call upon the Grasshopper  King. I have a plan for you."

So Daisy placed the crown on her little finger, and Kitty explained her plan to him.

The next day, the Queen's cousin was greeted by an army of grasshoppers, riding steeds of mice. They numbered in the thousands, and he consented that, although they were small, they certainly made a large army. He then set the next task: to bring forth a wonderful sound from an unconventional orchestra. She had two weeks time.

Daisy didn't need Kitty's advice this time. She hurried down to the frog prince's pond and dropped the pebble in.

"How may I help you?" he burbled, for his mouth was still partly underwater.

"I need your finest musicians to play a song at the palace of the Fairy Queen in two weeks time. I hope I'm not asking too much."

"Consider it done."

And indeed, in two weeks, everyone in the palace was drawn to the windows by the sweetest sound. The fairy children rushed to the courtyard and tried to dance like adults. The adults closed their eyes and let the sounds wash over them.

"Well done," the Fairy Queen's cousin told Daisy, "Tomorrow, you will answer a riddle."

The next morning, Daisy was brought to the throne room.

"Tell me," the Queen's cousin began, "What burns in our homes, out of our homes, and is not fire? What has a heart and a mind, but is rarely seen?"

Daisy thought and was at a loss until she felt the charcoal in her pocket. Then she laughed. "The answer is that which is lost in legend, the salamander."

After she returned to her room, she threw the charcoal into the fire and thanked the Salamander King for his help.

The morning of the wedding, which was to be a grand affair with fairies, grasshoppers, amphibians, and salamanders in attendance, Daisy stood by a window alongside Kitty.

"Are you afraid?" Kitty asked.

"Yes, Kitty. I am very afraid."

"You needn't be, for I will be with you always."

And she was.

25 Lessons Learned From Fairy Tales

Hey! I haven't blogged in almost a month, and it has been killing me. Okay, I know I've gone without blogging for longer periods of time, but that was when I would go a month or two without touching my computer. I still do that, but I'm not right now (obviously). This is something I've been thinking about writing for some time, so I finally got around to it yesterday.

1. Always be nice, especially to old and/or disabled people and children.

2. Know if you have faults. That's the only way to overcome them.

3. Show mercy to animals.

4. Especially if you are the eldest or middle of three siblings, all of the same gender, keep in good relations with your younger sibling or siblings.

5. People aren't always as they seem.

6. If you love someone, fight for him.

7. Do not succumb to jealousy.

8. It means nothing to be born into poverty.

9. Be careful what you wish for

10. "The third time's the charm!"

11. Stick to your family. Never abandon, disown, or dishonor them.

12. If someone makes a point of telling you to do or not do something, it's best to listen and obey.

13. There are people in this world who would do you harm.

14. There are those who will defeat all obstacles to defend the innocent.

15.  No one is entirely invincible.

16. Every obstacle can be overcome in some way.

17. Don't take candy from strangers.

18. Be likeable. Good things happen to likeable people. Bad things can happen too, but there is a guarantee of good things.

19. Don't boast.

20. Finish things you set out to do.

21. Don't make promises you won't keep.

22. Be wise.

23. Life can be unfair, but you can shape it.

24. Always be polite.

25. There are happy endings.

Rapunzel Revealed (The Real Story)

According to the average person the tale of Rapunzel goes as follows (this story was found out BEFORE Disney played with this fairy tale).

Once upon a time there was a princess who was kidnapped and locked in a tower by an evil witch or stepmother (details may vary depending on who you ask) for no apparent reason. The princess had long hair and one day a prince rode by and called out "Rapunzel! Rapunzel! Let down your hair!". The princess lets down her hair, the prince climbs it, falls in love, and rescues her. The way the rescuing works is that there is some sort of dragon, if you are lucky enough to have a way for the princess to escape.

What has this society come to? My mother told me a good versions of fairy tales, when I was little. Let me tell you how the story of Rapunzel goes...

Once upon a time a couple was expecting a baby. They lived next to a witch, but she didn't cause them any trouble. One day the future mother was stricken with a craving for cabbage. She begged and pleaded with her husband to bring her some, but he wouldn't dare for the only cabbage to be had was in the garden of their neighbor, the witch. Finally his wife made her self ill, fretting over her want of cabbage, and the young man climbed over the fence to gather cabbage. Unfortunately for him, the witch flew out of her backdoor in a rage. Hoping for impunity, the soon to be father explained why he was stealing her cabbage. Much to his surprise, the witch told him to go ahead and take the cabbage. As in most fairy tales, this was not without a price. When the baby was born the witch would take her. Considering that the alternative was most likely worse than death, the young man agreed and took the cabbage to his wife.

Not long after, a baby girl was born. The witch appeared almost immediately and pulled the child from her mother. Before she left the little house, she named the baby Rapunzel (which is a type of cabbage for those of you who don't know). Using her magic, the witch created a tower that stood above the trees and the entrance to which was only a window. The witch (we'll call her Prune), kept the baby in this tower. When Rapunzel was little, Prune flew in through the window on her broom stick, but as she grew, so did her hair, until Prune was able to climb up it. Every morning and evening, the old witch would stand at the base of the tower and call out, "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair." Rapunzel was obedient and Prune was sort of kind. Prune would bring her food and brush her long hair. (No, it has nothing to do with magic flowers.)However, Prune would yank the brush though Rapunzel's hair in such a fashion that it caused great pain.

One day, a prince, while he was on his daily ride through the forest, heard the most beautiful sound. He followed it to the source and found a tower with a single window. Whoever sang so beautifully, he knew, must live in that tower. Day after day, the prince would ride to the tower to listen to the marvelous song. After a time he arrived to see Prune say the words that sent Rapunzel's hair tumbling down the side of the tower. Our prince (How about naming him Gregory?)waited until the scary witch left, ran to the base of the tower, and called out, "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!"

Obviously Rapunzel was confused about "Prune" wanting back up so quickly, and even more confused about finding a stranger in her tower. (Remember the only human she remembers having ever seen is Prune.) Eventually Gregory calmed her down, chatted with her and brushed her hair very gently. Every day after that, Rapunzel would let her prince into the tower. Unfortunately, one day as Prune brushed Rapunzel's hair, Rapunzel shrieked in pain,"Ouch! My prince would never brush this hard!" Needless to say, Prune flew into a rage and took out her anger on the cause.

That day Gregory climbed up the tower to find his lady love missing and a fairly scary, ugly witch in her stead. In shock, he stumbled backwards and fell out the window. (Which tells us exactly how ugly Prune was.) The prince landed in the thorn bushes that ringed the base of the tower and was blinded.

Now Rapunzel had had her first haircut and was banished to a desert.It was there that she later came across a blind man that looked remarkably like her prince. Oh wait! It was her prince! Sadly, he could not see her face. In sorrow, she wept, tears landing on his eyes. Remarkably his eyesight healed and her took her off to his castle to be his bride. THE END.

The Complete Story Hansel and Gretel, Retold and Revised

Once upon a time there were two children. The older was a young boy named Hansel and the younger was his sister, Gretel. They had a stepmother that loved them, but because she was a stepmother the children were inclined to hate her. One day Hansel decided to wake up early and walk in the woods, as usual he dragged his little sister behind him. She was not quite right in the head and he believed anything she told him. This was, indeed, a recipe for disaster.

As the two children skipped along the path the smell of freshly baked bread reached their little noses. The greedy little boogers turned from the path and ran towards the source of the sent. Eventually, a small cottage came into view. It was a charming little abode, with flower boxes beneath the windows and trim around the edge of the roof. The occupant of this cottage was a little old lady that sold herbs at the county fair. Gretel took one look at the house and squealed.

"Oh, Hans! Look Hans! Look! It's a ginormous gingerbread house!" The little girl could barely contain herself and rushed to the door, where she proceeded to gnaw upon the doorknob. Hansel, never to be left out on something, started licking the window sill.

"Are you hungry?" A little old lady had walked around the house with dirt on her blouse and a basket of vegetables in her arms.

"Yes, Ma'am. Very," Hansel pulled his little sister away from the door as he spoke. The old crone didn't need to know that they had been eating her house if she was going to feed them.

"Well, my name is Lillian Rain," the old lady crooned as she opened her door, showing no signs of noticing the drool on the doorknob, "What would your names be?"

"Hansel and Gretal Anderson."

"Well aren't those lovely names! Do come inside."

Once inside Ms. Rain fed the children till they were bursting and taught Gretal how to cook a few dishes. Consequentially Hansel ate more food than he should have, and gained nearly twenty pounds. Sadly Gretel was terrified of the large oven in the kitchen and told Hansel that Ms. Rain was a witch that planned to eat them. Ever willing to be a hero, Hansel shoved poor Ms. Rain into her own oven, closed the oven's door, and padlocked it. The screams were heard over a mile away.

It was those screams that brought Mr. Anderson to Ms. Rain's abode. When he arrived he found Gretel gnawing on the doorknob and Hansel crying (he had eaten so much he couldn't walk). In order to keep his children form being thrown down a volcano, he told the public that his wife had taken the children into the woods in order to be rid of them, where the children met a witch that attempted to eat them. Thanks to Hansel the world was now free of one more witch. He threw in the part about his wife (the children's stepmother), because she was starting to cost too much. She couldn't not buy shoes.

THE END

Fairy Tales Cannot Be Trusted

Once upon a time there was a beutiful young woman who fell in love with a prince. So deeply did she love him that she refused to consider marrying another man. One day the prince married the princess of a neighboring kingdom, but still the young woman would not entertain the thought of loving someone else. She died poor, old, and alone. The prince never knew and if he had he wouldn't have cared.

THE END

(Because Fairy Tales can be wrong.)

Hooded

     Jessie pulled her hood up. The wind bit at her cheeks as she started to walk down the dirt road that led to her grandmother's house. Her grandmother was sick, or at least that was what her parents said. Jessie hadn't seen her in a few years. Now, her mother said that Granny Hilda was doing well enough to eat some of Jessie's cooking. Jessie had been offended at first, but slowly it dawned upon her that she had been given permission to bake for Granny. When Jessie had presented the assortment of cookies and thermos of cherry lime-aid to her mother, she had been told to deliver them herself. Now here she was practically skipping down the road to see her grandmother.
     It was not long before she entered the woods. She was on Granny's lands now. The warmth of apprehension spread through her body. Giddy with anticipation, Jessie took off running down the road. Her camouflage backpack pounding against her scarlet windbreaker. It was not long before she ran out of breath, however and Jessie slowed to a walk. A wolf howled in the distance. Jessie howled back. The autumn leaves crunched beneath her feet. She hadn't been here for three years. She had been so happy. She would play in the trees. Once she saw a wolf. She had run to get mama and papa. They hadn't shown the same enthusiasm that she had. That was the last time she had been allowed to play here by herself. Now here she was, ten years old. No longer the second grader that couldn't fend for herself.
      " Hello, little girl." A voice broke into Jessie's memories. She looked up startled. A large man stood on the path before her. Jessie shivered. He had a hungry look in his eyes.
     " Hello, sir." Jessie responded, not quite sure of what to do.
     " Fine day to be out."
     " Yes it is."
     " Where might you be headed?"
     Jessie shivered. She did not like this man at all. Then again he would surely know if she lied to him. He regarded her with his dark eyes.
     " I am going to my grandmother's house."
     " Is that far?"
     " Just down the road, sir. If you don't mind I'll continue on my way." Jessie muttered.
     " Oh! Of course! I am sorry if I held you for very long  my dear."
     Jessie nodded and started down the road again.
     " I would pick some flowers for Granny if she were my grandmother." The man called after her. Jessie glanced over her shoulder. He was gone. She started to walk again, his words ringing in her ears. Without noticing it, Jessie began to pick flowers. Farther and farther into the woods, she went along picking more and more beautiful flowers. An owl sent its cry echoing through the dark. Only then did Jessie notice how late it was. Granny. She had forgotten Granny Hilda. Her hands froze inches from another flower. She swiftly stood and ran for the path. Flowers falling from between her fingers as she did so. She didn't stop when she reached the road. She didn't stop when she reached a fallen log. She stopped when she reached her grandmother's house. The gate was open. Jessie hurried to the door and knocked loudly.
     " Hello?"
     " It's me Jessie. May I come in, Granny?"
     " Of course, my dear!"
     Jessie opened the door and walked in. It was dark and something smelled. There was the bed, just where she remembered it. Jessie blindly felt for the light switch. She flipped it up with a click. A moan came from the bed. Jessie put her backpack down by the door and walked over to the bed.
     " Hello, Granny Hilda." Jessie said softly.
     " How are you my sweet?" The bed crooned.
     " Just fine, Granny." Jessie paused, "Are you doing all right? You sound funny."
     " Come a little closer dear, I didn't quite catch that."
     Jessie stepped closer to the bed. A large arm shot out and grabbed her wrist. Jessie screamed as loud as she could. The blankets were tossed back and the stranger from that mourning rolled off the bed.  Jessie pulled away. She pulled to hard and fell to the floor. That was when she saw under the bed. There was a limp form, clad in pastels, beneath the bed. Blood pooled around it's head, where a jagged slash had split the skin. Jessie screamed again. The man pulled a knife from his belt and grinned. As if she was a pillow, he pulled Jessie up and pressed his knife against her cheek. Jessie whimpered. Suddenly a bang filled her ears. The man fell to the floor. He was dead. Jessie was bawling when her uncle Brian walked through the door. He set down the gun on the counter and picked Jessie up. She continued to weep as he set her in a chair and washed the small cut off of her face. Jessie fell asleep on the couch as her uncle cleaned the house and fished his mother out from under the bed.
     The next day Brian drove his niece up to his brother's house. he had been hunting for something to make a good stew with for Hilda. He was on his way back when he heard Jessie scream. Margret held her baby close as her husband and brother in law spoke about the man. Jessie was still in her mother's arms. Afterward she did her chores and went to school as usual, but she was different. Her spark was gone. Not only had that man stolen her grandmother's life, he had also taken Jessie's childhood. 

Little Red

     Okay, this is a dream I have had recently. I was asleep with it, until my alarm went off. I just want to make sure that you understand I did not consciously make this up.

     A little girl stood in a field of flowers with her grandmother. Her hair was in two short braids on either side of her head and she wore a cloak. If I had to guess I would say she was in second grade. The girl and grandmother were picking flowers, when they decided to go to the grandmother's house. The grandmother went ahead to clean up the house before the girl got there.
     The house was enchanting. It was a simple little house, in a clearing. The path to the house was arched over by trees, so that the sun would come through the leaves in a light green. Beautiful as the house was, a wolf was waiting for Granny. Before she reached the door, it leaped from around the house. Granny in shock, pulled out a gun and shot it in the shoulder. It pulled back and circled, growling. It jumped for her again and she shot it again.The wolf fell onto a bed of moss between two trees, with the sun shining upon him. Perhaps my subconscious felt guilty for killing it. I guess I'll never know.
     Little Red skipped down the path swinging her basket as she entered the clearing. Granny kept seeing red, so she shouted for the little girl to run. The little girl ran. Granny was suddenly a wolf with a red hood. She gave chase howling as she did. More wolves came and followed her.
     They were running through a field, when they came to a part that was flooded. Little Red jumped onto an ice floe and drifted across. The granny/wolf jumped in to follow, but couldn't swim, so it climbed back on shore. Thus ended act one of my dream.
  
     In this part, I am sure there was dialogue, but I do not remember the exact words. This being the case I'll try to do my best at letting you know what they were essentially saying.

     The wolves were gathered around Granny's house. The wolf/grandmother (who I shall refer to as W.G.) was pacing a tree limb above the house. The other wolves were on the ground. W.G. was explaining to them about expanding territory. The limb it was on had two oranges on it. Suddenly W.G. leaped to another one that had three, scattering the wolves beneath it. The three oranges fell to the ground. Then it leaped to another limb between the first two. Again the wolves beneath it scattered and again the oranges, all fifth-teen, fell to the forest floor. Then, understanding this concept, the wolves melted into the dark forest.

     That was my dream. I had it Monday night. Then my alarm went off, but at least I don't have a cliff hanger!